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I’m going to write to you…

“Excuse me while I kiss this guy. What is that about?” I heard Cody’s voice.

I could hear my husband Teddy laughing. “No, Excuse me while I kiss the sky.”

He was in the living room with my brother Val and our friend Cody talking about, what else, misunderstood lyrics.

Now Teddy had to show off, “Juliette thought Bryan Adams was singing I’m going to write to you.”

I had to defend my reputation, “Hey, it was 1984. People still wrote letters.” Until a few months to ago I thought the lyrics I’m going to run to you were I’m going to write to you.

I’ve been overhearing and slipping into a lot of conversations lately that seem like I’m just sitting on the edge waiting to slip off and slip away.

Yesterday while at my daughter’s skating practice I overheard some of the spectators talking about how good it was to see all of the children there. We’ve had a lack of kids lately. One of them said something to me about the boys. It was the the Uber Type A Aggressive mom. Every club of any sort involving children has one of those. I mentioned to her that it was good to see so many boys in the club now. She mentioned that the thirteen year old male was rude to her girls. I said that all of the little girls pester the jeebers out of the poor kid. That is what little girls do – if there is a boy around. I didn’t blame him for being rude all things considering. I’ve overheard the girls complaining about the said boy, but honestly look at what your daughters say to the kid. Besides that they won’t leave him alone. What is the poor boy to do? No matter what he does they do their best to bother him.

Then Aggressive Mom says, “Which little girls?”

I wanted to tell her, “Why, madam, your bratty little tattle tale princesses pester the crap out of that poor young man.” But instead I said, “All of the girls do it. That is what little girls do.”

Yes, I’m always glad to keep them wondering, least I didn’t spew out vulgar language, as much as I’d love to. And I mean I’d really love to.

I thought now that my daughter is a teenager and my son in college that I would be done with annoying parents. God knows elementary school was full of psycho parents from Hell. You know who I’m talking about. Unfortunately I can’t show my fangs.

This morning some guys were out working on my house and I overheard them talking. I wasn’t really listening in but then my ears alerted me to “I’m tired of being a sugar daddy. Now I have a sugar mama.”

So back to my men.

Clara was upstairs doing homework (her nightly 3-4 hours) so I took a glass of wine and the bottle into the living room with the guys.

Val was talking about a couple he just met. He wants to be their Vampire, which means he wants to add them to his regular donor list. They’re youngish, in their thirties, with hipster style and a taste for microbrews, Beat Poets, and act as though they’ve single handily discovered vinyl records. They’re really sweet people, so says my brother. Both are type A+ blood, Val’s favorite (mine too.)

He had another interesting fact about them. They both want to go Big Foot hunting. Yes, Sasquatch hunting. Searching for the giant people of the old woods and mountains. I should have laughed but even I got the chills and could feel the hair stand up on my arms.

I’ll admit, that being a Vampire, I shouldn’t have this reaction. Sure I heard the stories going way back to when I was a child in the 1860’s. But back when I was a kid anything that moved was likely to be shot, so if the Sasquatch family was around they were shaved and wearing suits and hats, that is if they wanted to stay alive.

I can imagine if there are Big Foots they’d be masters of ease dropping and Tom Foolery.

Then Val mentioned that they would talk about their passion as if it were a huge secret but they’d tell everyone they met about it. That might have been their vetting system. I don’t know. I couldn’t imagine a guy in a waxed mustache and man bun out in the woods chasing around large hairy humanoids. I couldn’t imagine him chasing anything except a round of Brie that had fallen off the kitchen counter and rolled across the floor. But I might be wrong. I have to remember to assume nothing about everything.

“Did you ask them if they’d ever consider hunting Vampires?” I had to ask.